


You, Me and ADHD

by SushiOwl



Series: You, Me and ADHD [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: Stiles keeps losing his fidget cube, so Peter decides to get him something more permanent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to These Hands Are Not Quiet, And That's Okay, requested by my dear grumpyeeveelady.
> 
> Massive time skip.

The door was partially open when Peter arrived with lunch, and when he looked in he didn’t see Stiles right away. The office was probably the definition of organized chaos. The bookcases were filled with psychology books on the top shelves, while all shelves down to the floor were cluttered with children’s books, including _Guess How Much I Love You_ , _Ian’s Walk_ , _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ and _When My Worries Get too Big!_ There was a triangular hammock in the corner filled with stuffed toys for kids to squeeze and squeeze until they felt better, safer.

When Peter walked in, he immediately stepped on a Crayon, so he bent over to pick it up and lay it on the low table covered in coloring books, Crayons and glitter glue, all in various stages of decimation. He took a moment to admire one colored page with an interesting color palette and signed by someone named Cindy, with a backwards D.

“Dammit,” came a soft voice, and Peter looked over to see two feet sticking out from the side of Stiles’s desk, toes planted on the floor.

Peter smiled to himself and moved over to the desk to lean over and find Stiles half stuffed under his desk and digging out miscellaneous pens, papers, aborted origami attempts and take out menus. “Did you lose it again?” he asked, before he pressed his lips together when Stiles jumped and bonked his head on the underside of his desk.

Stiles sat back, rubbing his head and laughing a little. “I think one of my kids took it,” he said, before he grabbed the edge of the desk and got up.

“I guess we’ll have to get you another Fidget Cube. Again,” Peter said, leaning his hip on the desk.

“Yeah, it’s too bad I can’t hang that thing around my neck.”

“Hm.” Tipping his head a little, Peter reached over and ran his fingers through Stiles’s shaggy brown hair. “You need a haircut.”

Stiles leaned into the touch, before he grabbed Peter’s hand and held onto it as he reached for the food. “That smells like Raising Cane’s!”

Peter rolled his eyes and handed it over, his mind already on something else as he rubbed his thumb along Stiles’s knuckles.

* * *

Peter didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to get Stiles fidget jewelry before. It made sense, as Stiles was so notorious for losing his fidgets that Peter had bought him all twelve color variations of the cube one by one and twice over in the five years since he’d purchased the first one.

He clicked through various page suggestions in his Google search. A fidget necklace sounded like a good idea, but Stiles had a tendency to chew on anything around his neck. He had destroyed enough hoodie strings that it was probably best not to encourage him. Also he didn’t want to give Stiles anything that might hurt his teeth.

A bracelet was another option, of course. Peter had never seen Stiles wear so much as a watch on those bony wrists of his. Maybe he would like a bracelet, but also he might just forgot to wear it entirely after taking it off to sleep the first time. Then it would gone forever, because Stiles’s house just ate things. Peter had lost many a sock and a few shirts sleeping over. (Though he had caught Stiles wearing his v-necks to sleep in and never called him on it.)

The next logical step was a ring, and Peter paused as he looked at the image results. If he bought Stiles a ring, would it be taken as more than a fidget toy? Did Peter even mind if it was?

He looked over at the pictures lining his fireplace mantle. Some were of his family, such as Cora giggling while squished between Erica and Boyd and Derek grinning so widely while holding his newborn baby and Braeden looking wistfully at the two of him. There were also pictures of the rest of the pack. Scott and Melissa making silly faces. Isaac looking sweet and embarrassed. Lydia and Jackson pushing at each other to be in the middle of the frame.

That was half the mantle. The rest was Stiles or Stiles and himself. Stiles had an amazing smile, especially when it was mid-laugh. It was just as amazing when he tried to hide it in Peter’s shoulder or neck, shaking with uncontrollable giggles. Stiles kept trying to convince Peter to get rid of the picture that Cora took of Stiles stuffing his face with curly fries, a but of ketchup smeared on his cheek, but Stiles would have to defeat Peter in a duel to accomplish that.

Smiling to himself, Peter tried to think of what his life would be like without Stiles. Failing that, he went to a fidget ring website and spent the next two hours making the perfect customized order.

* * *

“So I was talking to Maria’s mother after the session, and once again she seems to just not understand what is happening with her daughter,” Stiles was saying as he stirred up the cubed chicken breast in the garlic and ginger paste.

“What did she say this time?” Peter asked as he grinded up dried fenugreek leaves for the spice mix with the mortar and pestle.

“She was saying she’s been doing all of the coping exercises I gave her, and I was about to praise her, but then she was like ‘So how long until she’s fixed?’”

Peter paused in his grinding and closed his eyes with a sigh. He wasn’t surprised that yet another harried and ignorant parent was convinced that Stiles could cure their child of autism or an attention deficit ailment. Stiles dealt with it enough and was still angered by it.

“I almost headbutted her,” Stiles said, setting the chicken aside to rip the bay leaves in half.

“Try to keep the workplace violence to a minimum, daring,” Peter said.

Stiles snorted. “No promises.” He started to break the cassia sticks into thirds.

“How was your day?” Stiles asked a bit later as he was flash searing the spices.

“Fine,” Peter replied, before he took a spoon and helped him remove the largest, unappetizing bits of shriveled spices then handed over the chicken.

“Just fine?” Stiles asked as he stirred and flipped the chicken around in the skillet.

“Nothing worthy of note,” Peter said, filling a medium pot part way before adding a dash of salt and putting it on one of the back burners.

“I’m sorry your job is so boring. The burden of being an independently wealthy artist.” He stopped flipping the now evenly white chicken cubes and gestured to the fridge. “Can you get me the–?”

“On it,” Peter said, already opening the fridge and pulling out the Indian butter sauce they had made the night before. He pulled off the lid and handed it to Stiles. “Have you located your fidget cube yet, by chance?”

Stiles blushed and looked very interested in pouring the sauce into the pan with the chicken. “You know the answer to that, don’t be a dick.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go against my programming,” Peter said, before he let out a little laugh as Stiles swatted him. He looked at the water in the pot and found it to be boiling, so he grabbed the burlap bag of basmati and added a cup of it. He watched the water come back to bubbling then lowered the heat and covered it, the glass of the lid fogging up immediately.

Stiles leaned into him after cutting the heat in half on the chicken so it could simmer in the sauce. “Sorry I lost another cube,” he said in a sigh.

Peter put his arm around him and shook his head. “That’s alright.”

“Bet the company has a plaque with your name on it and the phrase _Number One Customer_.” He snorted a laugh into Peter’s neck.

“Probably,” Peter said, sliding his hand into his cardigan pocket and wrapping his fingers around the velvet box there. He turned his head and kissed Stiles’s nose, causing it to scrunch up as he giggled. “I did buy you something other than a fidget cube this time, in hopes you won’t lose it quite so easily.”

Stiles straightened up with a “Hm?”

Peter willed his hands to stop trembling–they didn’t listen–and pulled the velvet ring box from his pocket. He cleared his throat as Stiles’s eyes went as wide as saucers. Peter forgot what he had been planning to say, instead turning to Stiles and opening the box.

The ring was black tungsten with silver gears that turned when either of the outer bands was turned. Peter took it out of the box, trying to set that on the counter but missing so it fell and bounced quietly on the floor. He showed Stiles the engraving inside.

_For Stiles, my beating heart._

Stiles had his hands over his mouth, flicking his eyes up as they began to glisten.

“I hope you don’t lose this one. But even if you do, I’ll replace it as many times as I need to.” Peter dragged in a shaky breath. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me. Stiles Stilinski, will you ma–”

Stiles was on him in a flash, kissing the words out of his mouth and managing to gasp, “Yes! Yesyesyes! Of course!”

Peter held him tight, listening to his breath as it stuttered wetly and he sniffed. He drew back just enough to take Stiles’s hand and slide the ring down his bony finger. Then he kissed him again.

Stiles lifted his hand, taking a moment to familiarize himself with the ring. He rested it against knuckle and moved the side with his thumb, grinning widely as he got the hang of it.

Peter ended up saving the chicken and rice when they forgot about it, and he sat across from Stiles at the little dining table as they ate. He couldn’t help but smile endlessly as Stiles failed to look away from his ring and got food all over his shirt.

Peter knew he would be treating that stain later, but he didn’t care. These days, nothing having to do with Stiles was an inconvenience.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://livedoor.4.blogimg.jp/plmh/imgs/4/9/4910c2a9.gif>Fidget%20Ring.</a>%0A%0ACome%20say%20hi%20to%20me%20on%20<a%20href=) Sometimes I take prompts! :D


End file.
